By Kim Addonizio*


I like to touch your tattoos in complete

darkness, when I can’t see them. I’m sure of

where they are, know by heart the neat

lines of lightning pulsing just above

your ******, can find, as if by instinct, the blue

swirls of water on your shoulder where a serpent

twists, facing a dragon. When I pull you

to me, taking you until we’re spent

and quiet on the sheets, I love to kiss

the pictures in your skin. They’ll last until

you’re seared to ashes; whatever persists

or turns to pain between us, they will still

be there. Such permanence is terrifying.

So I touch them in the dark; but touch them, trying.

We sit inches away from each other sneaking quiet glances, cracking jokes, exchanging smiles. Our legs slightly touching, nervous excited energy filling the air. This is the feeling I have long forgotten. This is the feeling I hope to hold onto.

like the flick of a light switch,
he can turn me on, but
he lingers with the dimmer,
keeping my
bulb warm,
heating me up
and then
warming me down
with just the tips
of his fingers
setting the
mood
just
right
and i love how
he makes me feel
electric.